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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063612">Pyrrhic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeskipped/pseuds/Timeskipped'>Timeskipped</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A3! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A3! Act 5 Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, implied hisohoma, literally all the warnings for act 5, tags will be updated as more chapters are added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:42:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30063612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeskipped/pseuds/Timeskipped</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>adjective - (of a victory) won at too great a cost to have been worthwhile for the victor.</i>
</p><p>Hisoka forgets.</p><p>“I won’t die. I’ll just lose my memories again. I can make new memories. Everyone will understand. If I do this, you’ll believe me. And I can have my whole family back.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mikage Hisoka &amp; Utsuki Chikage, Mikage Hisoka &amp; Winter Troupe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Coming Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Chikage watches Itaru play his game. Itaru doesn’t seem disturbed by this at all, so Chikage keeps staring. There’s something oddly captivating about the lights on the screen, though Chikage can’t say he understands the appeal of games. Maybe he’s gotten a new piece of understanding though, he thinks, as Itaru resets the game, his formerly dead companion characters alive and well.</p><p>Chikage keeps staring. His laptop is open, but he’s not paying attention to the screen. How could he, when his brain keeps torturing him? Every time he closes his eyes, he can see the scene play over again.</p><p>So he doesn’t. He watches his junior at work do what he does during his free time.</p><p>If he could, he’d reset his own life over again. He’d find it in himself to change things for the better. He’d find himself away from this cramped room with dirty laundry on the floor around the couch, and back at the hideout, where August would smile and laugh, and how could he laugh now that he was dead?</p><p>Bile rises in his throat. His expression doesn’t change, Chikage’s control of his outwards appearance too strong to slip.</p><p>The hideout reminds Chikage of December, too.</p><p>It’s this thought that makes him shut his laptop, the oppressive light from his screen dying away. The click of its closing brings more sounds, as Itaru clicks his mouse, once, twice, three times, and then spins in his chair to face Chikage. The pause screen halos his hair with light.</p><p>“Senpai,” Itaru says, and it’s the voice Chikage would call his <em>work voice</em>. It’s smooth and yet impeccably formal. “Are you going back to the lounge to see Hisoka?”</p><p>“I wonder,” Chikage says, but it’s a weak response and both of them know it. “If I’m not mistaken, Homare’s there right now, isn’t he? Hisoka should be fine with him watching over him. I was just thinking of taking a break.”</p><p>Itaru’s lips thin. “I see. Carry on, then.” There’s an awkward pause, where Itaru doesn’t turn around and unpause his game. They stare at each other, and Chikage knows which of them will break first; Itaru’s eyes fly back to the game after enough time has passed, and Chikage sighs to himself.</p><p>“Say it, Chigasaki.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Itaru’s eyes once again leave the screen and go back to Chikage’s. “Whatever you want me to say isn’t very important, is it, Senpai? I’d rather wait for Hisoka’s side of the story, and I’m not going to make any assumptions before then.”</p><p>Chikage pauses. Something in his chest is sinking, fast, hard, smashing against his ribcage. Guilt, he thinks. “How kind of you,” he says, before slipping out the door.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Chikage hadn’t been fast enough. The poison had already passed between Hisoka’s lips before Chikage could reach him. He could only hear his own breathing and Izumi yelling at Hisoka to stop, as Hisoka tilted forward, wobbling on dying legs, and caught himself on Chikage’s shoulder.</p><p><em>“I won’t die,</em>” Hisoka had said, claiming that Chikage’s suicide drug was actually a <em>memory loss</em> drug provided by August. What a liar.</p><p>What a liar, Chikage thought again, Hisoka’s still-breathing body in his arms. What a liar, what a liar, what a<em> liar.</em> Because if Hisoka told the truth, then Chikage had been living a lie this whole time, and Hisoka had simply been a powerless victim.</p><p>Chikage’s hands shook, but Izumi was crying too hard to notice.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Hisoka wakes up in a room surrounded by strangers.</p><p>It’s bright, and his throat hurts, and his first reaction is to run, to fight these people before they hurt him, to escape and recover in a place where he can finally be safe and alone. He blinks his one uncovered eye at the ceiling and waits for everything to become less blurry.</p><p>“How do we know he’s going to be okay?” someone’s saying, concern and hurt weighing down their voice in equal measure. The voice is deep, probably a man’s voice. “All we have is Izumi’s word, and Chikage—”</p><p>“He’s awake,” a second man cuts in, closer to Hisoka, and Hisoka’s eye frantically searches the room for who’s been speaking. There are too many people, too many colors, and he finally settles on the man who noticed his awakening when he speaks again. His hair is purple and unevenly cut, and his face is sharp, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you—?”</p><p>How will Hisoka get out of this? He pulls himself up, thankful that he’s not being touched or restrained in any way; he seems to have been laying on a normal couch. In any other circumstance, he’d fall asleep again. Hisoka speaks, interrupting the man.</p><p>“Who are you,” he asks lowly. It’s not a question.</p><p>When he’d last woken up, he’d been in a room with only two people. Neither of them are here; the crying woman who asked him if he remembered her—he didn’t—and the man who offered to let him sleep while he carried him home. Hisoka had accepted the offer because the tiredness in his bones had been dragging him down, but it also meant he doesn’t know much about why he’s here.</p><p>Amnesia. Memory loss. Hisoka had no home to go back to that he could recall, but the green haired man still referred to <em>here</em> as home.</p><p><em>“My name is Chikage,</em>” he said, lips barely moving and eyes never leaving Hisoka’s. <em>“Your name is Hisoka.”</em></p><p>He already knew his name. Somehow. <em>“Where are we?”</em></p><p><em>“It doesn’t matter. You have amnesia, and for now we’re going… home. Your home.”</em> He’d glanced at the brown haired woman. The woman shook her head, as if too choked up to say anything, so the green haired man—Chikage—sighed heavily, steely gaze dropping to the ground. <em>“Just go to sleep, if you want.”</em></p><p>He’d dreamt of something sweet.</p><p>Compared to that, waking up is bitter, and his mouth is dry. He doesn’t move away from the people around him, but he doesn’t let them closer, eyes jumping from one to the next.</p><p>“Oh dear,” a man with long silver hair says, kneeling near the couch and frowning. By his side is a man with short dark blue hair, standing and looking down at Hisoka. He’s staring, and his hands are clenched by his sides as if to stop himself from reaching out.</p><p>“We’re an acting troupe,” a tall, muscular man with dark hair says. “You lost your memory, right?” His hands are gripping one of the couch cushions tightly.</p><p>He’s right; Hisoka has no idea where he is, even if context says he was probably taken here by the man named Chikage. All he knows is that his name is Hisoka Mikage, and he needs to get away from all these unfamiliar people until his head stops pounding. <em>Recover alone,</em> his mind repeats, like a mantra. <em>If you’re weak, recuperate in safety so the enemy can’t find you.</em></p><p>“We’re all here to take care of you,” one of the men says, the one with dark blue hair. He has a gentle voice. “But you don’t… know us. Someone should get Chikage, since you already, uh, met him—”</p><p>“...It’s fine,” Hisoka says. It’s not like he really <em>knows</em> Chikage. He just met him the one time.</p><p>Except that Chikage knows <em>him</em>. It’s weird, that this stranger knows a version of him before he lost everything. Hisoka knows that much. He also knows that Chikage had been methodical and almost cold. Stiff, even when Hisoka fell asleep against his shoulder.</p><p>“No,” the silver haired man frowns. “You should get introduced to everyone else. I’ll get Chikage, since I’m sure he’s worried.” The man’s lips thin. “If he doesn’t want to come, though…”</p><p>There’s a moment of heavy silence that Hisoka doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know what they know about Chikage, about why he would or wouldn’t come to see Hisoka’s awakening. The man with dark blue hair bites his lip. The others all wear identical, uncomfortable frowns.</p><p>“I think it’s a good idea to try,” the blue haired man says, finally, quietly.</p><p>There’s silence as the silver haired man stands, face turning to Hisoka as if to check and make sure he’s paying attention—or <em>not </em>paying attention, like he’s afraid that Hisoka won’t care, or will fall back asleep. He leaves with a smile pinched at the corners and a small wave of his hand, and though Hisoka somewhat expects for the tension in the room to decrease, nothing like that happens.</p><p>Instead, the one with purple hair claps his hands. “Shall we reintroduce ourselves, then?” He’s smiling, too. Wider than the silver haired man’s. “My name is Homare Arisugawa. I’m a poet, and your roommate! I’m quite brilliant. In fact, to demonstrate my poetic talent, perhaps I will recite a verse right—”</p><p>“Stop it, Arisugawa,” the muscular man with dark hair cuts in, sighing. “Just ignore him,” he says as an aside to Hisoka. “My name is Tasuku Takato. The one who left was Azuma Yukishiro. I hope you…” he jaw clenches. “I hope you remember things, and that you’re okay.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Hisoka mumbles.</p><p>“Of course you are,” says the last unnamed man in the room, the blue haired one with the gentle voice and even gentler eyes, leaning against the couch but not reaching out for Hisoka. “I’m Tsumugi Tsukioka. I lead the Winter Troupe, which you were a part of. I hope we’ll get along, despite the circumstances.” His smile is awkward on the edges, and Hisoka can see why; introducing himself as a stranger seems like a hard task.</p><p>Hisoka’s head hurts. It’s slowed down into a soft throbbing, but he can’t stop looking around from face to face. Now that he’s been able to calm down, when everyone was giving him names, his head is clear enough to know that he doesn’t need to escape quite so soon. He should still be cautious about this, though.</p><p>He wants to sleep until everything slows down. So, therefore, he closes his eyes.</p><p>“Ah,” Tsumugi’s voice says faintly.</p><p>There are footsteps into the room. Two pairs. “He’s fallen asleep?” says the voice of the man with silver hair, Azuma, apparently shocked. Then he laughs fondly. “Fufu. That’s so like him, but somehow I wasn’t expecting it now.” Hisoka’s heart hurts hearing that. He knew Hisoka, didn’t he?</p><p>“At a time like this...” Chikage’s voice is just short of annoyed. “He never changes.”</p><p>Chikage is here, then. Azuma got him to come, even though Chikage seemed off-kilter and cold when he brought Hisoka here. Even though his voice is like this now. Even though Hisoka hurts just trying to remember what Chikage means to him.</p><p>Someone sighs. Tsumugi laughs awkwardly.</p><p>“Very well. I acquired a secret weapon for this very scenario, given what we know of Hisoka!” It’s the voice of Homare, this time, loud even if not close to Hisoka’s ear. He comes closer to Hisoka’s sleeping body, and Hisoka listens to the words through the haze of his almost-sleep. He knows Homare’s voice will just be louder with him so near. “Awaken!”</p><p>Hisoka catches a marshmallow in his mouth.</p><p>“Did you really have to be that dramatic?” Tasuku sighs as Hisoka eats. Hisoka spots a bag in Homare’s hands.</p><p>“Of course,” Homare responds, smiling at the others and then Hisoka.</p><p>The marshmallow is sugary, melting gently on his tongue. He chews it quickly, and thinks he must’ve loved them before. Sweets, calming his heart and making his life better. The smile of companions around him. It’s not quite familiar.</p><p>Chikage is staring at him.</p><p>In that moment, it’s like Hisoka is just waiting to remember something, anything, about him, about how Chikage’s eyes stare sadly in his direction, not quite meeting his, but not quite looking away. There’s a blank space between them, and Hisoka thinks—no, not quite, it’s more like the intuition of an amnesiac—he <em>believes</em> that nothing Chikage does will bring those memories back.</p><p>The door opens. Six pairs of eyes turn to the people coming out from it, at the man with blond hair and glasses who Hisoka doesn’t know—of course he wouldn’t know, how could he?—and the woman he does. It’s her, the one who cried for him. He hasn’t seen her yet without tears, but here she is, a kind smile in place where the red blotchiness of breaking emotions were before.</p><p>“You’re really awake,” she says. It comes out breathily.</p><p>The man beside her stays quiet. Calm, almost, or like he doesn’t think he should be here, lips pressed together as if to keep himself from speaking.</p><p>“Izumi,” Azuma greets in a smooth voice, his smile kind. “Sakyo, too. I’m sure Hisoka is overwhelmed, but I’m glad you can see he’s doing well at least.” His hand reaches out to tap gently against Hisoka’s shoulder, rubbing it once and then departing.</p><p>Tsumugi, meanwhile, moves to stand near the woman whose name must be Izumi, placing his own hand on her shoulder. She tenses at the motion.</p><p>She laughs awkwardly. “Ahaha… You guys don’t have to treat it like it’s a big deal,” she says, and the blond man with glasses—Sakyo, presumably—frowns. The others, too, seem restless, except Chikage; his face is a practiced calm while the others share glances. “Hisoka, you <em>are</em> overwhelmed, aren’t you? Would it be better if there were less people?”</p><p>A pause. Then Hisoka nods. “Maybe.”</p><p>Izumi claps her hands once. “Then, Sakyo and I should probably leave Hisoka alone to rest more now that we’ve peeked in, and get him integrated more formally later. You guys are staying, right?” Izumi asks them.</p><p>“Of course!” exclaims Homare with a flourish of his hands and awkwardness gone from his expression. “We would never dream of leaving Hisoka like this! We shall do our very best to help him recover his lost memories. We’re friends, after all!”</p><p>Tasuku frowns. “He doesn’t know that.”</p><p><em>He doesn’t know that</em>.</p><p>It’s true. An amnesiac has no attachment to these specific people. Maybe he cared for them before, maybe he wanted to care for them for the rest of his life, but now that’s been washed away like footprints on the sand. If Hisoka could, he’d tell them he still cared about them. But he doesn’t. Not really.</p><p>Tsumugi gently guides Izumi to sit on the couch opposite Hisoka. “Well, ah… You don’t need to go, Izumi. Regardless of whether he knows us or not,” he glances at Tasuku, who’s staring hard at the ground, “you’re his friend too.”</p><p>“But then, if Hisoka is overwhelmed, who <em>will</em> leave?” Izumi sounds tired, like sitting down has made all the energy leave her body. Hisoka can relate.</p><p>“I’m staying,” Chikage says quickly, though his lips press together afterwards, practically an admission of guilt in and of itself. Tasuku gives him an almost startled look, eyes jumping from the floor back to him.</p><p>Izumi sucks in a breath. “Are you sure—?”</p><p>Chikage’s eyes fall on her, and she shifts towards him, reaching out a hand as if to comfort him. He flinches back. It’s more emotion than Hisoka has seen on his face since he woke up here, but it’s quickly brushed off. “Do you not want me to be with him?” His words are carefully emotionless.</p><p>Izumi shakes her head. Sakyo sighs heavily, pushing off from his place near the doorway and standing next to where Izumi’s sitting.</p><p>Hisoka watches his hand tighten around Izumi’s shoulders. “Don’t answer a question with a question,” Sakyo tells Chikage. “She’s concerned about you being around him for your own sake.” His jaw clenches. “Honestly, I’m worried about you being near him for an entirely different reason.”</p><p>Chikage doesn’t respond. The whole room seems to wait for someone to move, and Hisoka watches with suspicious eyes as they try to figure out what to do with him.</p><p>“You don’t need to accuse him of anything,” Izumi says, finally. “He had nothing to do with Hisoka losing his memories—”</p><p>“How do you know me?” Hisoka interrupts, because he still feels out of place and lost, with all these almost-strangers arguing over him—whatever the version of him they’re arguing over means to them.</p><p>All eyes turn to him.</p><p>If Hisoka lost his memories, then he must’ve known these people before. That’s the only way they—why Chikage and Izumi, specifically, carrying him home—know who he is. The looks they give him are on-edge, and he’s once more feeling a tightness in his chest that’s making him act strangely. There’s too much tension here, and Hisoka needs to <em>escape</em> before he can fall asleep again.</p><p>“Oh, uh…” Izumi laughs shakily. “You were part of the troupe. And then you… lost your memories. Hisoka, you don’t have to decide if you’ll rejoin right away, but you were important to the troupe. We all know you—or, we <em>knew</em> you.”</p><p>So Chikage is suspected of being involved in his memory loss, but Izumi doesn’t think he was involved. Chikage was obviously close—</p><p>
  <em>There was a man with light green hair in front of him, dressed in warm black clothes to fight against the biting cold. Beside him, a boy with darker green hair looked at him suspiciously. He stared. And stared. And stared. The two of them were out of place.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Just leave him!” the boy snapped. “There’s not way he’d be of any use. He’ll just slow us down.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Something clenched in his chest. He’d survived this long on his own, but the man kept on coming back with the complaining boy in tow to request that he join the organization they were a part of. “If you joined us, we’d make the strongest team,” the man said, and smiled. The boy still looked at him with suspicious eyes.</em>
</p><p>—<em>There was a limp body in Hisoka’s arms, struggling to even take a single breath. His blood stained Hisoka’s fingers, but he looked up and smiled as Hisoka took his vial and uncapped it</em>—</p><p>—Hisoka’s head hurts. The memories pass as soon as they came, but the feeling lingers like a sour taste in Hisoka’s mouth.</p><p>“...Okay,” he responds to Izumi saying she knew him, as if nothing happened.</p><p>Tasuku makes a noise in the back of his throat. “<em>‘Okay’?</em> That’s what you’re going with?” His eyebrows furrow, and he only stops glaring (probably unconsciously) when Azuma pats him lightly on the arm. Then Tasuku looks away from Hisoka guiltily. Not like Hisoka cares.</p><p>“I’ll join again,” Hisoka clarifies. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”</p><p>That seems to make Tasuku feel even more guilty, with the way he takes a deep breath and nods. “Not having anywhere else to go is difficult,” he says.</p><p>This, more than anything else, seems to spur the others into action. Homare, in particular, bounces closer to Hisoka with another marshmallow, which Hisoka happily eats. “I’m glad you’ve decided to stay with us for the time being, Hisoka! You’ll be simply a natural at acting, I just know it!”</p><p>Azuma laughs behind his hand. Tsumugi looks at them kindly. Izumi smiles; Sakyo and Chikage do not.</p><p>There’s a beat of silence, where Hisoka stares at each person. His chest feels tight, but the marshmallows he’s been given are sweet on his tongue, and he thinks he might be able to get used to this. He doesn’t know who he is, but obviously these people can fill in the gaps, so what’s the harm in eating the marshmallows they provide him?</p><p>It feels empty more than anything else.</p><p>“Don’t you want to know what happened?” Chikage asks from across the room. His eyes are sharp and guarded, his body language forcibly relaxed. Hisoka doesn’t know how he learned to pick up on those clues.</p><p>“...I don’t care,” Hisoka says, finally, but he’s not sure how true that is.</p><p>“We should tell you anyway,” Izumi says, but her arms curl around herself, and she shuts her mouth and doesn’t say anything else. Her brown eyes flick over to the rest of the men in the room, but they carefully avoid Chikage.</p><p>“To tell you the truth,” Tsumugi starts awkwardly, looking Hisoka in the eye, “we don’t know much, either. The people who were there won’t say. We’re here because we care for you, but if you want to know, you should say something to Izumi or Chikage. I’m sure whatever happened is… difficult to talk about. At the very least.”</p><p>The idea of it being <em>difficult</em> hadn’t even crossed Hisoka’s mind, but now it seems obvious.</p><p>“What happened exactly doesn’t matter,” Chikage says tensely. “I asked because I thought you would want to know, but apparently you want to sleep more. Am I right?”</p><p>“...Yeah.” Sleep sounds nice. Sleep sounds safe.</p><p>“But…” Izumi seems torn, and she steps back from the group. “I… I understand. Why we shouldn’t say anything. But this is Hisoka’s memories. He said that he could make new memories with everyone, and that we’d all accept him, but how can he accept this if he doesn’t know us?”</p><p>Homare hums softly. “Yes, we did promise to carry the weight of his crime with us. And we know a bit more than the average troupe member might, since Hisoka informed us of Chikage’s involvement in—”</p><p>He cuts himself off with a weak cough when Chikage narrows his eyes at him. Somehow, Homare is still smiling, but it looks strained. <em>Forced.</em></p><p>“What matters, I think,” Azuma intervenes, “is that Hisoka believed that he could create new memories. Whether or not he remembers again doesn’t matter, as long as we support him, right?” His eyes find their way to Chikage, then to Izumi. “He’ll be okay, as long as we do that.”</p><p>“Just like when we first found him, huh…?” Tasuku murmurs.</p><p>“We can do that,” Tsumugi says. “It’s okay for us to spend time with you, isn’t it, Hisoka? Even though you don’t know us, we can always become friends again.”</p><p>“...I don’t care,” Hisoka says softly.</p><p>Somewhere inside of him, he thinks he knows. He thinks he can feel that he’s supposed to have memories of these things, of these people, but he doesn’t <em>care</em> about that. He wants to sleep, and have more marshmallows, and even if he has the chance to ask Chikage and Izumi for the truth, he’s not going to take it.</p><p>Even if he’s empty, he can’t bring back those memories so easily.</p><p>There’s a heavy silence in the room.</p><p>Izumi speaks up next, clearing her throat. “Maybe you should get some more rest… And we can tell you about the troupe in the morning? I’m not sure if you have any interest in acting, but you were good at it before. Just,” she cringes, “just think about it.”</p><p>“Izumi…” Tsumugi says, sitting on the couch’s armrest. Izumi whips her head around to look at him—she’s obviously jumpy. “Are you okay? You should get rest too…”</p><p>She laughs. “I’m fine,” she’s smiling, but Hisoka can spot her lie from a mile away. Given Tsumugi’s frown, he can tell as well, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply letting out a gentle sigh and leaving her be.</p><p>Hisoka lets himself be led to a room full of things that he can’t recall, up a ladder into a bed with blankets thrown on it haphazardly, obviously used. Before Homare makes his way back down the ladder and leaving Hisoka alone, he swallows with obvious nervousness, whispering a quiet, “Goodnight, Hisoka.”</p><p>Hisoka falls asleep in a bed that doesn’t feel like his, and dreams of watching someone die.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is my first time writing a multichapter, so let’s see how this goes! I’ll be updating this as I finish chapters, so it might take a long time between them, and there’s no set schedule. Sorry about that! I hope you enjoy it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Rue Flower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hisoka reintegrates himself into the company. The rest of them try to understand where this leaves them. Guilt and grief both bloom.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Azuma finds himself in the kitchen well after sundown has set in, and well after Hisoka has been driven out of the lounge and to a more proper place to sleep. Azuma can’t help but feel like there’s something missing, in his own near-empty room.</p>
<p>It’s not as though Hisoka was <em>always</em> sneaking into his room, but Azuma still misses it.</p>
<p>He accidentally makes his tea too sweet for his own taste. The sugar just fell too fast, he tells himself. He’s not going to waste perfectly good tea. He stares at his cup, and it almost burns his tongue when he takes a sip.</p>
<p>It’s fine. It’s fine.</p>
<p>“You’re awake.” Sakyo is quiet, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. It’s not unusual to see Sakyo up late, but it’s too late for either of them to be reasonably awake without reason—Sakyo rubs his eyes under his glasses. Azuma frowns.</p>
<p>“So are you,” Azuma takes another sip. “Care to sit? I can recommend makeup to hide your dark circles all night long, if you’d like.” He smiles, overly sweet.</p>
<p>Sakyo huffs, but still sits. Azuma knows that Sakyo won’t bring it up unless he has to—the way he’s been silently pacing, stealing glances at Izumi when he thinks she’s not looking, when she stares off into the distance eating curry, when she leaned against him heavily, as if all she needed was human contact once more. Azuma suspects she hadn’t had much of that during the time she and Chikage were missing.</p>
<p>Sakyo must be concerned; Azuma understands.</p>
<p>“You and I are a bit hopeless,” Azuma breathes, and Sakyo’s eyes flicker to his. “We’re waiting for something to happen, but we know it won’t unless we start it. Don’t you find that a bit sad?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p>
<p>Azuma laughs. When his smile dies down, he licks his lips. “You should ask Izumi what happened.” Azuma should ask too, he <em>knows</em> he should. He shouldn’t watch Sakyo hover and be grateful that he can divert his lonely restlessness into Hisoka instead of worrying about a woman who vanished, who he’s <em>still</em> worried for, but who he doesn’t know how to help. Sakyo, at least, is trying his best for her where Azuma can’t.</p>
<p>Hisoka had been so sure that Chikage would never forgive him. Azuma can’t imagine asking why. Especially now that Hisoka is right where he started.</p>
<p>Azuma is no stranger to reoccurring nights, loops of nightmares and mornings, and imagining cycles where there isn’t anything at all. Azuma is full of loneliness while watching Hisoka wake up with confusion, even though he doesn’t truly understand what Hisoka is going through.</p>
<p>Azuma knows he lost something, but he also knows it isn’t anything compared to what Hisoka lost.</p>
<p>“I should ask,” Sakyo agrees, with no further clarification of whether he’ll ask Izumi for answers or not. “For now, she needs to heal. And you,” Sakyo eyes Azuma, “need to get some rest and stop worrying.”</p>
<p>“The pot calls the kettle black,” Azuma says with a smile.</p>
<p>Sakyo rolls his eyes. Azuma drinks more tea, and watches Sakyo’s foot tap beneath the table at a rhythm only Sakyo must know. He wonders idly if it’s nerves, or habit, or something else entirely; where Sakyo’s getting the energy, Azuma doesn’t know, because he feels like he’s been wrung out over the last few days and lonely nights.</p>
<p>“Mikage will be disoriented, I bet,” Sakyo says, sighing. “Readjusting back into the company like that… He’ll need to go through the same things as last time. Not to mention Utsuki’s situation.”</p>
<p>Sakyo’s eyebrows lower at the reminder of Chikage. He’d been shooting him glances since their missing party returned.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Azuma agrees. “There’s a lot we don’t know.” Sakyo doesn’t give that a response except for a small, shallow nod, so Azuma keeps watching him. It’s better to not be alone on a night like this, when his feelings swirl inside him; he finishes his tea and realizes that he’s still not tired enough to sleep, knots tied in his chest.</p>
<p>Azuma stands slowly, and puts his cup in the sink. Sakyo watches him the whole time. Azuma’s mouth tastes like sugar, the type of tea Hisoka would like if he’d been awake. Azuma’s chest aches. It suffocates his heart.</p>
<p>It keeps aching when Azuma finds his way back to Sakyo and smiles. It aches when Sakyo tilts his head back to look at him.</p>
<p>Azuma holds his hand out to Sakyo. “Sleep with me?” he asks, as if that will fix all their problems, as if Sakyo’s distrust of Chikage and worry over Izumi will wash down the drain like sugar from Azuma’s empty cup. But Azuma is lonely and empty all by himself, and he can’t imagine that other members of the dorm are doing much better.</p>
<p>So when Sakyo hesitantly takes his hand, Azuma doesn’t feel any surprise at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>December knocks on the door to the secret hideout.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It’s quiet, the middle of the night. December knocks in a pattern he somehow knows by heart. Tap, tap, tap, it goes, knuckles hard against the door. Like this, it almost looks like a prison, even though he knows (how does he know?) that it’s home.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The door swings open. It’s dark inside, darker than the night outside, a cavern not touched by the moonlight that drenches the surroundings. December steps inside.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>April is there. His eyes have dark eye bags below them—usually he’s better at hiding them than this. His eyes burn into December’s, and he stands sharply from the couch upon which he was sitting before December’s entrance. With every step April takes towards him, December’s fear mounts, but he finds that he can’t move.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Step, step, step. April’s footsteps stop when he’s close enough to grasp December if he wanted.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Where’s August?” he grounds out. “You said you’d protect him! You said you wouldn’t let him get hurt!”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“August…?” December says distantly. He looks around for August, but he’s nowhere to be found. Where had he last seen him? It’s so hazy that December can’t quite grasp it. It was during their mission, wasn’t it? Why had they even been on one? And... where had August gone?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The vision flashes in December’s mind, too quick for him to grasp—a vial, dangling earrings, the blood staining his fingers, and—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The April in front of December shakes him away from the memories. “Look,” he hisses, and suddenly December realizes that they’re standing on the cliffside, wind blowing around them. The hideout is gone. Their home is gone.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>December looks up at the moon, and tastes salt in the air. He can, impossibly, feel the light on his skin, like the moon and April both believe he’s betrayed them. December’s gaze drops away from the white ball of light, and he realizes, once and for all, that he’s alone. April has disappeared into the empty night, too.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>When he looks down, he realizes with a sickening jolt that blood stains the ground. December’s eyes widen, and he can feel himself grow weak.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Hisoka wakes up with wide eyes and sweat dripping down his forehead. “August—” he chokes out, stuck in his throat in a way that hurts. The dream fades just as quickly as he speaks, fog disappearing into the nothing within his brain.</p>
<p>“Hm?” A head with purple hair pops into Hisoka’s line of vision. “Hisoka, you’re awake! Do you need anything? Some marshmallows, perhaps? Or maybe some water?” Homare’s smile is too wide to really come off as <em>real</em>, and Hisoka feels horribly out of place just seeing it. Not that he feels he should care, but…</p>
<p>
  <em>I can make new memories. Everyone will understand.</em>
</p>
<p>“Marshmallows…” Hisoka mumbles, because those do sound good. They make his mouth water, and his eyes slip closed again.</p>
<p>“You’re so troublesome,” Homare responds softly, but Hisoka can hear the smile on his voice. Is this what they meant when they told him that the people here cared for him? Giving him sweets, asking his opinions, waiting to help him when he needs it…</p>
<p>He gets fed marshmallows, and thinks that maybe he could sink into this warmth. It’s new and unfamiliar; not because he’s never experienced it before, since he’s sure that he has, but…</p>
<p>Somehow, he understands why his past self was okay with making new memories. He could fall asleep in this room again and again, and wake up with his companions by his side. He could always come back to them. Always.</p>
<p>So why does he feel so alone?</p>
<p>The feelings are too heavy. They’re not worth considering.</p>
<p>Homare leaves, and Hisoka falls into a light sleep. He only wakes up when he hears someone climbing the ladder to his bed, and the person brushes some of his bangs to the side—not enough to uncover his eye, but enough to touch him reassuringly. Like he’s soft and gentle. Like he deserves to be treated like he is.</p>
<p>He opens his eyes to see Azuma above him. He’s smiling, just like everyone else was.</p>
<p>“You’re awake,” he comments. He pulls his hand away with a fond sigh. “I just wanted to check that you were okay. And… that you were still here. It’s hard, when things fall apart.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Hisoka says. Azuma’s words seem lonely. “Do you want to do something with me?”</p>
<p>Azuma laughs lightly, and it’s like the sun has risen in his smile and all the dark sadness lingering there has been banished. “I would. What did you have in mind? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can do it. We can even invite others, if you want.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Hisoka answers. “What did I do before?”</p>
<p>Azuma frowns at this, and Hisoka’s heart stutters, like he’s done something wrong, or like he’s crossed an invisible line. The frown disappears quickly, but Hisoka’s eyes linger on Azuma’s gentle face, at how easily his happiness was brushed away. “You often did things with us, but most of the time it was someone else’s choice. You preferred to sleep.”</p>
<p>Hisoka closes his eyes. To sleep…</p>
<p>“If you’d like me to, we could sleep together. Taking a nap with each other is as good of an activity as any other, after all.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Hisoka says, even though he knows he should probably get to know them as more than strangers. Sleeping is such a tempting offer, though. He can’t help but want to do it. He opens his eyes and Azuma is smiling, as if this was perfectly expected, perhaps even welcomed.</p>
<p>There’s makeup under Azuma’s eyes. Subtle, but noticeable from this close, where Azuma leans against Hisoka’s bed.</p>
<p>“Alright. I’ll go get the others, if they’ll come.”</p>
<p><em>If</em> they’ll come. As though it’s not a given. As though they’ll be scared off by the fact that Hisoka has lost everything. “...You can get them later,” Hisoka says, licking his dry lips. “I’ll get up, for now.”</p>
<p>Azuma laughs. “Fufu, yes, of course. Do you remember the way to the lounge?”</p>
<p>He nods. As Hisoka extracts himself from the comfortable warmth of the bed he’d been given, climbing down the ladder after Azuma, he ignores the way Azuma yawns subtly into his palm. It’s not Hisoka’s problem. Not really.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Izumi is at the table with Tasuku when they enter the lounge, and looks up from her mug—coffee, probably, considering the smell—to smile at them. Azuma rests his hand lightly on Hisoka’s shoulder, pushing him forward alongside him.</p>
<p>“Hisoka,” Izumi says. “I wanted to talk to you about the troupe, which is called Mankai Company, since you’re joining us again.” She smiles gently.</p>
<p>“...Okay,” Hisoka says after a moment. He shouldn’t tell her that he doesn’t care, after all; he’s joining them, even if it’s just because he has nowhere else. He wishes he wasn’t so tired. He’ll probably fall asleep in the middle of the explanation.</p>
<p>“Wait,” Tasuku stands, staring at Hisoka, “What if he falls asleep while you’re talking?”</p>
<p>Oh. Another reminder that they know Hisoka, curling within him, reminding him that he’s no stranger to these people. And that’s why they want him in their company, isn’t it? Because he’s something similar to their friend, even though <em>this</em> happened to him. They want to stay with him.</p>
<p>He thinks about staying with them, and finds he doesn’t hate the idea, but it’s neutral and grey. He doesn’t really know why.</p>
<p>There’s a minute of silence as marshmallows are brought from the kitchen, and they come together. They flit in and out of the kitchen and back and forth from the table, and it makes Hisoka’s head hurt the whole time. </p>
<p>“I’ll keep this short,” Izumi says, gesturing Hisoka over to her place at the table. “Practices for Winter Troupe’s next play won’t start for a while, so you have time to think it over,” she continues.</p>
<p>“I don’t need to think it over,” Hisoka says quietly. “I have nowhere else to go. I already said.”</p>
<p>Tasuku’s eyes widen and he stares at Hisoka. “Hey,” he says, and there’s a way in how his eyebrow twitches that makes Hisoka wonder if he’s mad. “If you want to leave, we’ll <em>find </em>somewhere else for you. If Mankai hadn’t—” he pauses. His face crumples, and he bites his lip. “Sorry. I’m going to go.”</p>
<p>Hisoka watches him leave silently. Azuma sighs, but Tasuku doesn’t pay it any mind, glancing at Hisoka as if Hisoka, or one of the others, is going to stop him.</p>
<p>Tasuku’s words from yesterday ring in his ears.</p>
<p><em>He doesn’t know.</em> Hisoka doesn’t know that they’re friends. Hisoka is separate, right now, and the only thing he can hope for is that, somehow, he’ll get pulled back together in this company.</p>
<p>Azuma sits beside him and offers him a marshmallow. “He’s just concerned,” Azuma says. “Tasuku will come around a while later and apologize for this, you know.”</p>
<p>Hisoka doesn’t know what to say to that.</p>
<p>Izumi bites her lip. “Anyway, we have four different subtroupes. You are—well, you <em>will be</em> part of Winter Troupe. Right now Spring Troupe’s fourth show is going to come on which means,” she pulls her phone from her pocket. “Which means I should probably go help them practice more. It’s still early.”</p>
<p>“Have fun,” Azuma tells her gently. “Be safe.” He offers Hisoka another marshmallow and pets his head. When Hisoka looks at him, he seems relaxed, but he can’t tell whether that’s actually true or not. Hisoka can’t quite read him.</p>
<p>Izumi looks tired. “Thanks, but you don’t need to worry. It’s just been a while since we practiced, nothing more.”</p>
<p>Azuma frowns, but Izumi is already gone, rushing off with coffee in hand.</p>
<p>Hisoka wonders at how quickly he was left alone with Azuma again, sitting at the table in the morning sunlight and feeling sleep dragging down his body.</p>
<p>He gets introduced to every other troupe member one by one as they filter in for breakfast; high schoolers gathering to do homework and watch shows, and adults with responsibilities, Chikage included, fixing their clothes and giving Hisoka subtle glances out of the corners of their eyes as they leave, bidding a quick goodbye.</p>
<p>The Spring and Summer Troupes come together as groups, respectively, from the practice rooms, having finished morning practice. Those without other obligations can choose to stick around or not.</p>
<p>It feels warm, like a gentle hug from a loved one. Especially Omi’s awkward smile and apology that he can’t do something larger for him food-wise because he has a morning class, and even Misumi rushing out—saying he has an appointment with a neighborhood cat—feels like a <em>good</em> kind of weird.</p>
<p>Azuma smiles at him. It feels strange, because he still thinks he’s supposed to remember it.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Fitting in with the strange members of Mankai seems fine for Hisoka.</p>
<p>Tsumugi has flowers which he shows to Hisoka for most of the morning. The others—the ones not in Winter Troupe, that is—seem to be keeping their distance with him, like he’s an easily startled cat and they’re afraid of getting scratched.</p>
<p>Hisoka doesn’t ask about the flowers, but he watches Tsumugi bring heavy fertilizer and work at pulling stubborn weeds.</p>
<p>“I’ve been able to get a lot of different types,” Tsumugi says, with the kind of leisurely softness that Hisoka notes seems to follow Tsumugi around. “There are so many flowers, and since we’re an acting company, I’d like to think that the flower’s meanings are important, like they are in fiction.”</p>
<p>Hisoka nods mutely.</p>
<p>Tsumugi seems to take this as an invitation to continue, gesturing towards a flower they hadn’t been tending to. Its small yellow flowers are bright in the sunlight, bright yellow petals sprouting from long green stems and green centers. It’s off to the side, and Hisoka hadn’t noticed it previously.</p>
<p>“Homare would know more about the specifics than me, but I talked to him about it recently. In Hamlet, there’s a section about flowers, and rue flowers are mentioned—”</p>
<p>Tsumugi’s hand extends, still in its gardening glove, towards Hisoka. Hisoka feels himself watching, but it’s not passive anymore; as if he’s aware of what Tsumugi is going to do, to say, to act out. This is the expression of an actor, Hisoka realizes. These are the sharp blue eyes of someone ready to become someone else.</p>
<p>Had he looked like that once, too?</p>
<p><em>“There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me,”</em> Tsumugi says, before relaxing his body again. “Ah, that’s all I remember, though Homare did show me the passage. It’s about Ophelia’s wish for the ones around her to repent for their actions, apparently.”</p>
<p>Rue. To regret.</p>
<p>Hisoka knows the word. Though Tsumugi didn’t recite the line in English, Hisoka knows the word <em>rue</em>.</p>
<p>“...Oh,” Hisoka says, for lack of anything else to say. Flower meanings are too complex for him—or maybe he just wants to believe that they’re unobtainable to someone who can’t remember enough to <em>regret.</em> “You’re a good actor.”</p>
<p>Tsumugi doesn’t reach for Hisoka—his gloved hand raises to his own face, a thoughtful expression, but he smiles all the same. “You will be too. I’m happy you’re staying here, Hisoka.”</p>
<p>The garden is sweet, and Hisoka is filled with images of the flowers, as if he’s a living, breathing endpoint for the rue to touch upon. This time, Hisoka doesn’t tell Tsumugi that he has nowhere else to go, and if his silence is strange, then Tsumugi doesn’t comment on it.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Hisoka comes into the lounge when the sun is painting the courtyard orange, having spent most of the day dozing off under Tsumugi’s watch and having a quiet lunch with the rest of Winter Troupe. There’s a crowd there, but not a large one; two students are at the table, heads pressed into textbooks. Others are on the couches, and there are noises coming from the kitchen.</p>
<p>A warm sweetness permeates everything. It makes Hisoka sleepy.</p>
<p>Kazunari leaps up as soon as he catches sight of Hisoka, though. “Hisohiso, come here, we <em>have</em> to play some games together. You can’t remember our tactics, right? So I’ll totally have the upper hand!”</p>
<p>It’s strange that Kazunari is treating this as normal. It’s still weird when Kazunari sits him down with several of the others; Homare is of course the one Hisoka recognises the most, but he also remembers Masumi from Sakuya’s sunny <em>this is Masumi!</em> as he pushed the sleepy high schooler to breakfast.</p>
<p>Hisoka could relate to the sleepiness, at least. But Masumi doesn’t seem sleepy now.</p>
<p>“I’m going to win this,” Masumi says bluntly as they sit down for their game. Citron, in turn, grasps at Masumi’s shoulder and shakes him from side to side.</p>
<p>“Noooo,” Citron whines. “I shall win! You can’t take this from me!”</p>
<p>And so the game starts. Hisoka can feel himself relaxing as the game goes on, slowly sinking into the feeling that this is going to become normal. That he can have a normal day with these people, as he grows sleepier, almost nodding off against the cushions until it’s his turn. Masumi says something about wanting to win to impress the director, and Kazunari laughs, and—</p>
<p>Homare shakes his head sadly, and for some reason Hisoka pauses, game piece in hand, to watch him.</p>
<p>“Oh, Masumi, my boy,” Homare says, and leans across to attempt to pat Masumi on the shoulder. “You should instead think of trying to win for yourself, for this victory will spice up your life, and if you win this game then surely you will begin to understand.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care about winning for myself,” Masumi says.</p>
<p>Homare laughs loudly. <em>Too</em> loudly. “Nonsense! Here, I’ll give you a poem for winning, and a poem to motivate you. A spring day welling up, miracles in motion, and I—”</p>
<p>Homare is speaking differently from Tsumugi did in the garden, differently from <em>rue</em> and <em>regret</em> and the silent <em>repent for your actions</em> in Hisoka’s own mind, but Hisoka still feels those same feelings biting at him, in the way Homare was the one to teach Tsumugi about Hamlet, and suddenly all Hisoka can think is <em>acting acting acting</em>.</p>
<p>Hisoka wants something he can no longer have. A life offered to him for a second time, but he didn’t even get to savor the first taste.</p>
<p>“Homare,” Hisoka says, “be quiet.”</p>
<p>The room freezes for a second. Kazunari, in particular, cringes briefly before immediately schooling his face into a smile again. Even that is no match for Homare’s own expression, though; a deer in the headlights look, laced with a frown.</p>
<p>“What,” Hisoka deadpans.</p>
<p>Homare laughs too loudly, waving his hand around like he’s trying to distract from something. “No, it’s nothing, it’s nothing! You just had a nickname for me before, so it was simply strange to hear you call me by my first name—please, carry on with what you were saying—”</p>
<p>Something tightens in Hisoka’s chest. Homare’s hand is still waving, over and over. Kazunari, next to him, gives a sympathetic smile.</p>
<p>“Stop talking,” Hisoka bites out. “This is why I wanted you to <em>stop</em>… You’re too noisy.”</p>
<p><em>—”You’re so noisy, Arisu, how do you live like this?” when Hisoka crawled out of bed in the mornings to go to practice with him—”Simply put yourself in their shoes!” as Homare grinned up at him, smile bright at last—”You care about him, don’t you?” With Izumi’s smile, laughter bubbling below the surface—</em>Stop. Hisoka’s head hurts, and his breath comes into his lungs shakily.</p>
<p>“Hisohiso’s harsh!” Kazunari laughs, unaware of the pain in Hisoka’s head.</p>
<p>Masumi is staring at Hisoka.</p>
<p>Citron, in his part, joins Kazunari in cheering. “Homare isn’t too loud, you’re just too quiet, Hisoka!” He reaches over to take Hisoka into a one-armed hug. His smile looks more like a smirk when Hisoka looks up at him.</p>
<p>“Let’s get back to playing,” Masumi says. Somehow, that’s all Hisoka wanted to hear, like he can sink his memories back into the depths of his mind just by being around people who don’t care.</p>
<p>But then—Hisoka cared about them, didn’t he?</p>
<p>When the game ends, Homare stands sharply and bids his adieu—his words—and he does as such by feeding Hisoka another marshmallow and loudly telling him, “Remember to come back to our room, Hisoka, and don’t cause too much trouble. I’ll work on my poems, in the meantime.”</p>
<p>His footsteps are loud as he goes. Hisoka wonders if it’s his fault that he’s fleeing.</p>
<p>And then he’s gone, and the others scatter as well; Omi’s already made food, though the sink is running still, Citron drags Masumi away in too much of a hurry to be casual, and the others in the room are engaged in their own quiet conversations.</p>
<p>Which leaves Hisoka and Kazunari hanging back. Hisoka almost wants to fall asleep. Is Kazunari a good pillow?</p>
<p>“Hisohiso,” Kazunari starts, and the cheerfulness dips into something quiet, and it still makes Hisoka’s fingers curl at the idea that Kazunari doesn’t know how to speak to him. But Kazunari’s voice isn’t hesitant despite his less cheery disposition. “Did you like Omimi’s cooking? He cooks all the time, and even if it’s just snacks he’s got it all taken care of!”</p>
<p>Hisoka lies down on the couch, swallowing. He curls up his body, arms around his knees. “Why are you acting like my amnesia is normal?”</p>
<p>Kazunari startles, green eyes jumping to Hisoka’s.</p>
<p>Kazunari’s smile is strained, just like everyone else’s. “Honestly,” he admits, and his voice is so soft it’s almost a whisper, leaning closer to Hisoka. “I don’t know how to feel about your amnesia. I just figured I shouldn’t make a big deal of it, though! Besides, you… want the Winter Troupe to keep being your friends, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Hisoka’s hands clench into loose fists. “I guess.”</p>
<p>Kazunari’s eyes turn soft as he leans back on the couch next to Hisoka. “See? You’re totes ready to reintegrate yourself with the company, and all of us want that for you! And even if you decide you don’t want to hang with us—with Winter Troupe—they still want you to be happy. So some awkwardness is going to happen, but it’s not anything more than that.”</p>
<p>“Awkwardness,” Hisoka repeats, feeling the way it feels in his mouth. “Is it really…?” Because Hisoka keeps trying to comprehend it, over and over, the idea that they could care about him even as he is now, an empty shell of who they want him to be.</p>
<p>Kazunari shakes his head. “Tbh, I have no idea what they’re thinking, but as long as you believe in them, then I know you’ll figure it out. They care about you, Hisohiso.”</p>
<p>Hisoka wishes he believed him with his full heart, but just half of it will have to do. For now, all Hisoka knows is that he can’t keep stalling, not when the remnants of Homare’s exit still feel odd, and that eventually, like with all things Hisoka has found in the past day, he’ll have to face the fact that they <em>care</em> about some version of him.</p>
<p>Hisoka is that person. Hisoka, with or without memories, is the Hisoka Mikage that they’re trying to get rid of awkwardness with. Hisoka doesn’t know if he feels like it’s true, seeing how they treat him, but Kazunari is correct at least.</p>
<p>Something is beating overly fast in his chest. Something he doesn’t want to acknowledge, a web of feelings too thick to untangle in one day.</p>
<p>Hisoka stands, leaving the warmth of the couch with purpose.</p>
<p>“I’ll go back to my room,” Hisoka says, and finds that he lacks any other way to thank Kazunari. Not that he <em>has to</em>—Kazunari grins large enough for the both of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>On the first night, his head had hurt and his body had been exhausted, even with his long nap on the lounge’s couch; he slept without hearing Homare’s activities in their room, if he was even in the room at all. Tonight, though, he dozes off in one of room 205’s chairs, listening to Homare’s pen scratch on paper for what feels like hours.</p>
<p>Eventually, it ends. The soft clink of pen against wood greets Hisoka’s ears, followed by the scraping of his chair being pushed out, before Homare speaks, close to Hisoka.</p>
<p>“I do not wish for you to change, Hisoka,” he says, softly, fingers brushing his hairline as if he doesn’t expect Hisoka to be listening. “Though I’m sure you’ll continue as you have been. And I—” a sharp intake of breath. “—I want you to know that it’s simply alright. Preferred, even.”</p>
<p>Is that true? Is that what Hisoka has been aching for this whole time? For things to find a soft, gentle normalcy, and for them to forget that this is <em>abnormal</em>, that Hisoka doesn’t know them? Or does Hisoka want them to confront him, to tell him about his past self and not let him rest? Or is the strange impulse to <em>remember</em> simply a desire to get rid of the <em>awkwardness?</em></p>
<p><em>They’ll accept me</em>, he reminds himself, and breathes deeply. But he also knows that they expect <em>something</em> from him, and maybe it’s just that; either a memory or a void, and he doesn’t know which one he’s closer to.</p>
<p>Homare continues: “I know that you told Chikage your feelings, and put yourself in his shoes to understand him. That’s enough.” His fingers leave Hisoka’s head, as if they were never there.</p>
<p>And then he’s gone, climbing up to his bed.</p>
<p>Hisoka opens his eyes. He doesn’t move until he hears Homare’s gentle breathing, interspersed with mumbled poems. Hisoka feels desperately lonely, like he’s been left behind in some way. It makes sense that he told Chikage his feelings. He tried to understand. But it ended with Hisoka without memories.</p>
<p>
  <em>In the days before Hisoka confronted Chikage, the anxiety tightening in his chest wouldn’t let him sleep—</em>
</p>
<p>Anxiety tastes like static on his tongue.</p>
<p>He sneaks out of the room with practiced ease, leaving Homare’s sleep talking behind. The night is warmer than the last one, with a spring breeze and the smell of cherry blossoms in the air.</p>
<p>The balcony is empty when Hisoka finds his way there. Hisoka looks up at the moon, leaning his weight against the railing of the balcony. He thinks back to earlier, when Homare’s <em>awkwardness</em> made him smile in such a forced way as Hisoka said the wrong name, and yet... he said he wanted Hisoka to stay as he was.</p>
<p>“Arisu…” he mumbles, tasting the name on his tongue.</p>
<p>He doesn’t know why he knows his nickname for Homare. He doesn’t know why saying it feels like a secret.</p>
<p>He touches his lips with his fingertips. If Homare wanted him to say it, he would’ve said so. He would’ve been more direct, maybe, except that Hisoka doesn’t know Homare well enough to know if that’s true. All Hisoka knows is that <em>Arisu</em> burns on his tongue against the night air. His fingers on the railing tighten.</p>
<p>Then he notices he can hear muffled voices from inside.</p>
<p>Izumi is crying inside, speaking through tears. “I’m sorry, I—I should have stopped him.” Her voice is quiet, especially through the door he forgot to close all the way, but it’s clear enough to his trained ears.</p>
<p>“Nobody’s blaming you.” Hisoka has to strain his ears and step closer to the door to hear Sakyo correctly.</p>
<p>“I just… Chikage thought he was committing suicide,” Izumi says, and her voice shakes on the last word, straining as if she can’t bear to speak it. “I wasn’t sure if Chikage was right, but even though he <em>wasn’t</em>—because of that, this happened. Hisoka was so <em>sure</em> it would be okay, but you didn’t see when Chikage tried to stop him. He looked—it was awful.”</p>
<p>Hisoka feels himself freeze. First; he’d told his feelings to Chikage. Second; Hisoka had thought he would be okay, even when he was going to—<em>looked</em> like he was going to commit suicide by erasing his own memories. But <em>why,</em> Hisoka thinks. <em>Why would Chikage stop him?</em></p>
<p><em>Obviously,</em> something at the back of his mind whispers. But why would it be obvious? Why would Chikage, someone he doesn’t know, try to save him?</p>
<p>
  <em>But I do know him. He’s my—my—</em>
</p>
<p>Hisoka’s head pounds. If he hadn’t erased his own memories, maybe he’d understand what Chikage was to him, or why Izumi is so upset. Suicide is serious. Hisoka knows that much, even without memories—but he just can’t <em>comprehend</em>—</p>
<p>He leans against the wall, pressing the side of his head against it’s cool wood. It doesn’t stop the pain, but it allows him to rest his weight against it to wait it out.</p>
<p>His heart is pounding in his ears. He doesn’t know if he should leave, or keep listening to Sakyo and Izumi, or <em>what</em>.</p>
<p>Sakyo is saying something softly, and Hisoka, perhaps against his better judgement, strains to hear him. Sakyo’s voice is gentle and comforting, and Hisoka can tell, from the way Sakyo hasn’t been like this to anyone else, that Sakyo cares deeply about Izumi. “Hey. Look at me.”</p>
<p>A pause. Izumi sniffs. “It’s not fair,” she says.</p>
<p>“I know it’s not. And you couldn’t have done anything to make it better; it’s done now, so all we can do is try to help him. If he chose to do it, we have to remember that he did it for a reason…”</p>
<p>Hisoka knows this is true; he chose this. He <em>chose</em> the grief over his own memories, and the anxiety brewing inside him, and he chose the thing that would make Chikage be in pain. He knows that Izumi and Chikage are <em>both</em> in pain, because even if Hisoka <em>tried</em> to understand Chikage, it still ended with him hurting those two.</p>
<p>The idea of <em>suicide</em> burns inside him.</p>
<p>He removes himself from the wall, and feels his head stop pounding even as his heart feels sick. He sneaks out of the balcony, staying away from the mini-lounge where Sakyo still talks in gentle tones to Izumi; he goes the long way around, feeling the spring on his skin and not knowing what Chikage or Izumi’s feelings mean.</p>
<p>Hisoka finds his way back to his room, but he doesn’t feel like going to the balcony gave him anything at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Chikage watches Hisoka. He stands alone on the balcony for a long time, more awake than Chikage has seen him in a long time.</p>
<p>Chikage knows guilt. It burns inside him like memories of August settling to the bottom of his heart, with everything Chikage once was and never will be again. He’s twisted himself so far from who he wants to be; he’ll never get back the days he and Hisoka lost, where he looked at Hisoka and thought that he wanted to <em>destroy</em> him.</p>
<p>But he never wanted Hisoka to die. He knows that now.</p>
<p>Hisoka probably doesn’t even know he’s out here, watching the balcony and making sure that Hisoka is okay, and doesn’t run away. If Hisoka were to vanish on him, Chikage can’t imagine being able to stay in Mankai even long enough for the first Oz performance.</p>
<p>Hisoka covers his lips with one hand. Chikage wonders if there’s a reason. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Hisoka at all, not like he knows—knew—December.</p>
<p>Chikage wants to run. He wants to leave Hisoka and this awful guilt behind, but he knows he can’t. Not when everything is so raw and clear; leaving now would be abandoning Hisoka, like how he betrayed him before. It would also betray the Spring Troupe.</p>
<p>He’s not sure when he started caring about <em>betraying</em> them. He was always intending to, so why now, why <em>here?</em> Why is he still with Mankai?</p>
<p>Hisoka stays still on the balcony, and Chikage can’t help but wonder if they’re the same. What did Hisoka find with Mankai that Chikage hadn’t, because Chikage had been so caught up in wanting to hurt him for something he never did? Chikage closes his eyes and sees Hisoka, vial of memory loss drug in his hand again.</p>
<p>It follows him everywhere. No doubt, it will follow him into his role as Oz, as well.</p>
<p>When Chikage goes back to his room for another sleepless night, he glances at the door to room 101, tucked away into the corner of the courtyard. Behind it, surely, Sakuya is looking forward to the first performance.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Lies are the Beginning of Leaving</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Come to Spring Troupe’s new show! Opening night is tonight, and everyone is here! At least… for now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter was suggested by my friend Mikey ^^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em>December sits next to April. It’s cold out here in the snow, but he’s warm under his coat, and he passes a marshmallow-filled mug to April, who rejects it by shoving it away. It almost spills, but not quite—December glares at April for almost spilling the hot chocolate when he was trying to be nice for once.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Don’t look at me like that,” April says, and for some reason he’s smiling. December can’t remember him ever looking happy when they fight.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Look at you like what?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>April doesn’t respond. He shoves his hands into his pockets and keeps smiling. August isn’t here, tonight, but that doesn’t seem to make April upset. Weirdo. There’s snow in his green hair, but December tilts his head to the sky instead of brushing it away.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m glad we’re not on a mission right now,” December says, but he’s not sure why he says it. April looks at him. December continues, “August wants us to be safe. This is the only way.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>April frowns at last. Something loosens inside December’s chest. April huffs out a breath that comes as a white cloud, like smoke from a signal fire. “Not the only way.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“...What?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“But you know that too well, don’t you, December? We’re family, after all. How could you not know?” April’s eyes are too bright. He’s surrounded by blinding white from the snow. His fingers reach for December, and December can’t flinch away, not from the man he still sees as his brother, as April grabs the vial at his neck and holds it up between them. “You know the other way, don’t you?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>December’s mouth is dry. He can’t close his eyes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“This is what August wanted,” April says, and his face is grim and serious. It contorts into a desperately pleading frown. “Please. You know better than me. You were there. What happened—?”</em>
</p>
<p>Hisoka’s eyes snap open. Silently, he stares at the ceiling in the dark, unable to sleep. Chikage’s face in his mind stares back at him, surrounded by blinding white snow.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Homare watched over Hisoka when Chikage brought him back. He looked so peaceful with his eye closed, sprawled out on the couch, asleep as always. Was it a normal sleep? Homare couldn’t say. Was Hisoka dreaming? Homare couldn’t answer that, either.</p>
<p>Homare’s hand had reached for Hisoka’s forehead. Warm, but not feverish.</p>
<p>There’s a part of Homare that thinks that Hisoka’s newfound amnesia is incomprehensible. That part of him keeps reaching out, again and again, touching his forehead when he sleeps even when he knows by now that Hisoka’s problem is an ailment of the mind.</p>
<p>But he loves Hisoka. He loves him and wishes to care for him without hurting him.</p>
<p>He’s never known how to care for someone like that before the Winter Troupe. Not before <em>Hisoka,</em> as strange as he was as an amnesiac, and as unruly of a roommate. It was this which drew Homare closer to Hisoka, and it’s this which keeps them apart right now.</p>
<p>Homare loves Hisoka; he wants him to do as he wishes. Homare loves Hisoka; he wants him to be like who he used to be, calling him <em>Arisu</em> and demanding marshmallows.</p>
<p>But Hisoka is Hisoka even when he doesn’t remember Homare, and so Homare will love him as he pushes him into the practice room for their first practice. The unchanging reality that is Hisoka Mikage grumbling at Homare for waking him, even though it’s already afternoon, and all the others are awake.</p>
<p>The ones not like Hisoka (that is to say, all of them) are already there. Tasuku stretches in front of the mirror, while Azuma rubs Tsumugi’s back. There are dark circles under Tsumugi’s eyes, and Homare feels his heart drop.</p>
<p>They’re torn apart. There’s something deep and wrong between them.</p>
<p>Homare wants to help the mood, though he doesn’t quite know <em>how,</em> so he leaves Hisoka’s side to circle the room, throwing his arms wide. “Shall I recite a poem for Winter Troupe’s resumed practice? Ahh! Lovely afternoon! Bright light flight, might we find a way for hope to flutter, birds in all of us!” He ends it with a flourish.</p>
<p>Tsumugi is smiling at him. His chin is propped on his fist, watching Homare with a smile. For once, Homare feels <em>correct.</em></p>
<p>“We’re just acting,” Tasuku says, eyes sliding from Hisoka to Homare. “No need to do a poem. It doesn’t even make sense.” He says the last comment offhand, but this, too, makes wings sprout inside Homare’s chest.</p>
<p>Ah, normalcy. How Homare loathes it and yet finds it comforting at the same time.</p>
<p>“No fear, dear Tasuku!” Homare grins. “You will eventually understand my artistry, and when you do, I will share such poems with you again. Hisoka, you understand, don’t you?”</p>
<p>He knows the answer before Hisoka says it. He watches the words form on Hisoka’s lips with bated breath, like this is the finality that Homare desires. Indeed, Hisoka’s response is sharp, but Homare can’t help the giddiness flowing in his veins. “No. You make no sense.”</p>
<p>Before this—before Hisoka wiped himself away for a good Homare doesn’t understand—Homare had sat across from him in a small cafe. “I don’t mind,” Hisoka said, and looked away. “I don’t understand your poems, but I don’t mind…” It was a confession which stirred Homare’s heart.</p>
<p>Hisoka can always stir Homare’s heart with such simple words. He does the same when he’s learning to act, with firm, confident movements.</p>
<p>“You’re a good actor,” Tsumugi says, playing the part of their leader perfectly.</p>
<p>“...You told me I would be.” Hisoka’s eyes are closed, and the wall supports his full weight. He hadn’t even pulled up one of the folding chairs. But this, too, is Hisoka’s normal discipline.</p>
<p>Azuma laughs into his hand. “Did he, now? And what do you think of acting?”</p>
<p>Hisoka looks to Izumi, who smiles gently at him. If anyone knows<em> love of acting</em> here, it must be her alongside their acting junkies. Hisoka had never joined the ranks of the acting junkies, but surely he must’ve liked it enough to keep returning by their sides. An endless tale of love in Winter Troupe.</p>
<p>Homare knows that love well, himself. He wonders if Hisoka has already experienced it.</p>
<p>“It’s… nice,” Hisoka says. He doesn’t seem very sure of himself, though Homare supposes that it only makes sense given the circumstances. “...Izumi. Are we done?”</p>
<p>Izumi nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s all. I need to help the Spring Troupe practice tonight, and tomorrow morning there’s going to be even more practice, to make up for lost time.” Her fingers press against her forehead as she rambles. ”Opening night is going to be packed, given that we had all the advertisement about a new actor, so we have to give a good impression.”</p>
<p>“You should go, then,” Azuma pushes gently at her shoulders. “Make sure to get lots of rest between shows. You wouldn’t want to overwork yourself.”</p>
<p>Izumi bites her lip. “...Thanks, Azuma.” Her face lifts, brightening as if her happiness was the sun peeking through the clouds. “I’ll be off, then.”</p>
<p>Before Hisoka can wander off with Homare following him, Tasuku catches his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Wait, Mikage. I wanted to say,” Tasuku says, “just,” his hands leave Hisoka’s shoulder to clutch his own arm awkwardly, turning away for a second and then back again, as if he isn’t sure where to start, or like he’s still stuck in the motions of their practice, his old play characters still reaching their fingertips toward Hisoka.</p>
<p>Hisoka’s face is blank, but his eye follows Tasuku’s hand motions.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Tasuku says then, and it’s like breaking character, because Tasuku practically deflates as he says it. “I want to help you find a place to belong. Because I had to in the past as well. I left a different theater troupe and had nowhere to go but here, so of course, for you…”</p>
<p>Hisoka nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, in the same tired cadence as always.</p>
<p>“Oh, Tasuku,” Homare rejoices, “you really are doing your best to tend to Hisoka’s emotional needs! Shall we all help Hisoka find a comfortable place to rest, so as to allow him to sleep away his mental burdens—?”</p>
<p>Tasuku sighs. “Forget I said anything. I hope you feel like you have a place to belong, Mikage, but I’m going before I start understanding Arisugawa’s poems.”</p>
<p>Tsumugi and Azuma laugh. Hisoka’s lips lift upwards.</p>
<p>Homare thinks he’s never seen such a relieving sight. Even as he cries for Tasuku to wait for him, even as he wraps his arms around Hisoka as if to comfort himself in Tasuku’s absence while Azuma pats his back, Homare feels as if he has experienced joy for the first time again.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Izumi hasn’t told anyone about how Chikage kidnapped her. Not even when she confided in Sakyo how absolutely torn up she is about Hisoka’s memory loss. Not when she said it was attempted suicide. Not when she remembers the long days away from Mankai.</p>
<p>It hardly seems like it matters now. She’s back, Chikage’s back, and they’re preparing for The Wonderful Charlatan of Oz at a fast pace.</p>
<p>Chikage sticks close to her during practice. She wishes she knew why, but the question sticks to her tongue. Similarly, she can’t ask him directly about how he feels about Hisoka right now, because she <em>knows</em> Chikage, and she still can’t stop thinking about the strain on Chikage’s face when they watched Hisoka—</p>
<p>Well. At least Hisoka isn’t here to listen in.</p>
<p>At times like this, she feels like she should confront someone else about their feelings. In the past year she hasn’t had a lot of her own internal conflict like this, but she’s helped these men grow and blossom. Maybe that’s why she finds herself anxious when it comes to <em>herself</em>.</p>
<p>Maybe that’s why she talks to Chikage, pulling him aside after the practice has ended. Itaru asks if he should go to work first, without Chikage, and Chikage tells him he won’t be long.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” Izumi asks, when the room is so quiet she has no choice but to remember quiet moments with the other actors, or else when Chikage yelled at her for trying to touch him. She shoves her hands in her pockets. “He… Hisoka showed you that, um, that August…”</p>
<p>Chikage looks away. “August wanted to erase our memories. It was all he could do.”</p>
<p>The silence is suffocating. Izumi wants to yell at Chikage, <em>Aren’t you worried?! Your family is right there! Hisoka is right there! He just wanted you back!</em> but she doesn’t. She can’t. Her hands shake in her pockets; she tries to stop them, even though Chikage can’t see them. “...Would you have been okay with it?”</p>
<p>Chikage glares at the ground. His eyes are dead and distant behind his glasses. “No. I wouldn’t have been.”</p>
<p>Izumi’s breath catches in her chest. She thinks of those long days of being alone with Chikage, and her chest tightens. It’s been tight for a long time. It spilled out when she was crying, across from Sakyo and trying to muffle her sobs and make her words come out clearly at the same time. Futile tasks to make it easier for her actors to understand her, when she can’t even say what Hisoka <em>said</em>.</p>
<p>Right now, she just wants it to be easier for Chikage, but she knows he’s hurting in a way she’ll never understand. She can’t just pretend she knows what’s happening, as Chikage clarifies that he needs to leave, but hesitates before leaving the practice room.</p>
<p>When she bids him goodbye, Chikage smiles a perfect smile.</p>
<p>And so, finding herself with nothing to do but dwell on her unresolved feelings, she seeks out someone; an actor, a distraction, <em>something.</em></p>
<p>Sakuya is sitting beneath the cherry blossoms, and though she can only see his back she knows he’s glowing with life, like the flower Izumi has always thought of him as. He’s making gestures with his hands, and as Izumi walks closer, across the courtyard until Sakuya is in sight, she realizes that Hisoka is lying next to him, cheek cushioned on Sakuya’s shoulder.</p>
<p>Izumi feels herself relax. It’s familiar, when Sakuya looks up and greets her. Hisoka opens an eye lazily. Izumi’s chest feels tight again.</p>
<p>“Izumi,” Hisoka greets softly, and looks away towards the green grass. “Sakuya said you were teaching him how to act as Rick. Sounds hard… Practice was hard yesterday…”</p>
<p>“It’s not that bad!” Sakuya exclaims, grinning down at Hisoka. “The first show is tonight!” He doesn’t touch Hisoka, even though there are cherry blossoms in both their hair. Izumi reaches down to do it for him, plucking pink petals out with purpose. Sakuya thanks her, then turns back to Hisoka. “Are you coming?”</p>
<p>Hisoka is quiet for a minute. “...Yeah,” he says, finally, and makes eye contact with Izumi. “I’m coming. Don’t worry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The curtain rises. Hisoka sits down between Homare and Tasuku. Azuma and Tsumugi sit behind them, and Hisoka feels anxiety ball inside his chest when he remembers that.</p>
<p>Five minutes into the show, Hisoka hears Tsumugi whisper, <em>“Are you okay?”</em> which makes Azuma let out a small, airy laugh. Tsumugi doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Azuma. Something must’ve been passed between them, in their expressions or in the theater’s quiet air.</p>
<p>At this point, Chikage has already stepped onstage.</p>
<p>He’s wearing green, and his outfit is flashy and strange on him—Chikage has always seemed to blend in with the rest of Mankai, so seeing him alone on the stage is <em>weird</em>. He draws the attention, shoulders stiff, lights bright on his glasses. He turns too sharply towards Sakuya when he joins him onstage.</p>
<p>Hisoka watches their characters interact, and Sakuya’s lines are so smooth compared to Chikage’s, though the words come out easily enough that Hisoka suspects few in the crowd would mind. The others in Winter certainly don’t seem to, as Hisoka watches them lean forward in their seats. Hisoka can’t bring himself to. Too tired.</p>
<p>The show goes on.</p>
<p>Chikage looks at Hisoka through the crowd, and he seems like a different person than the one who carried Hisoka home. His body is akin to a puppet’s, arms stiff.</p>
<p><em>He’s a bad actor,</em> Hisoka thinks. <em>He’s trying too hard to do it correctly. Sakuya has been covering for him this whole time.</em> And if Hisoka was more caring maybe he’d decide to meet up with Chikage after the show, to tell him how much he sucks at acting, to direct him to try harder, or maybe to ask him, <em>what are you to me?</em></p>
<p>Hisoka knows he won’t ask. Not when Chikage, the man offstage in all his cautious looks, is keeping that distance, as well.</p>
<p>Oswald is a liar and a conman. Hisoka doesn’t <em>know</em> what Chikage is, but he knows that Chikage doesn’t quite fit in the role. A liar who doesn’t understand how Rick is so gullible, versus a man who looks at Hisoka with cold, lonely eyes.</p>
<p>Hisoka wants to<em> find</em> Chikage. Somewhere, in the stiff man onstage, is someone Hisoka knows. Someone who wants to save him. Someone who brought him home, like their fates have forever tangled together two men who weren’t able to understand each other’s feelings, because Hisoka had erased his own memories.</p>
<p><em>Suicide.</em> Hisoka had attempted suicide.</p>
<p>
  <em>On a cliffside, breaths coming out too hard, too fast, fingers fumbling and feeling so alone, like any moment he’d fall to the ground too—he wants to fall, because he can’t do this alone—he’s never wanted to be alone, facing the enemy. The green-haired man with the kind smile had reached out for him so that he wouldn’t have to—</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hisoka stood facing Chikage, and his hands didn’t shake when he lifted the vial to his lips because he knew Chikage would trust him if he just erased himself, because August did this for them—</em>
</p>
<p>Hisoka’s vision blurs. He can’t see the stage anymore. He can’t watch as Oswald yells out something about teaching Rick. His head strains and aches, banging like a percussion band has been added to the theater.</p>
<p>But he wants to understand Chikage. He wants to make things better. So he has to try to focus.</p>
<p>He knows that acting runs in his veins, a reminder of the life he had with Mankai before. He knows that Chikage stands onstage, awkward in his presentation of his character as Hisoka’s vision clears, as he stops his hands from shaking and glances to see if either Tasuku or Homare have <em>noticed,</em> if they’re <em>watching him.</em></p>
<p>They aren’t. Hisoka looks back to the stage, and dips himself into the story, and into his vague memories of who he once was.</p>
<p>
  <em>A home for three. A cliff, a beach, the doorstep of a large building. Mankai Company. A life left behind, things Hisoka didn’t know and tried to keep forgotten, even when he felt it in the back of his mind.</em>
</p>
<p>As Hisoka begins to unravel the threads of his memories, he comes to a conclusion.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The play is over. The curtains fall, and Tasuku can’t help but be overcome with emotion. It’s not the same emotion he himself would find onstage; rather, he finds himself glancing at Hisoka and wondering if there’s some remnant of a memory there.</p>
<p>But that would be too hopeful, wouldn’t it? Hisoka’s face in the darkness betrays no familiarity with the stage.</p>
<p>Tasuku loves the stage, but he knows it’s not the same for someone like Hisoka, who stumbled into it accidentally. Or maybe it’s more than an accident; Homare would say something about fate, maybe. Tasuku wishes he believed in something like that.</p>
<p>Tasuku leaves the theater with the rest of Winter Troupe; their interactions with Spring Troupe after their show were brief.</p>
<p>Tasuku told Masumi he did well. Then he hung back and let the others discuss the lines and roles, Spring’s post-show tiredness pervading the room. Maybe that was why Tsumugi also called on them to leave, glancing at Hisoka, who was saying something to Sakuya—something Tasuku couldn’t hear, but which Sakuya smiled sadly at.</p>
<p>Tasuku wonders if he should’ve been more direct. Maybe he should’ve called out to Chikage and asked him something like, <em>what happened when you and Izumi were missing?</em></p>
<p>But Tasuku has never been good at that.</p>
<p>Outside the theater, Azuma looks up at the rainclouds above their head, blocking out the stars. Tasuku follows his gaze. It’s been a while since Nocturnality, but Tasuku still remembers driving out to find Azuma after all those nights he’d left. He wishes he could drive out to find Hisoka, too, but Hisoka <em>hasn’t</em> run away.</p>
<p>“Azuma,” Tasuku says. Azuma’s eyes are a gentle gold. “Do you think Mikage liked the show?” It falls flatly from his lips, because acting is all Tasuku can think to speak of.</p>
<p>Azuma’s lips quirk upwards. “Well, he told Sakuya to look out for Chikage,” he says, rather than a concrete answer.</p>
<p>Tasuku lingers by the door as Azuma glances at Hisoka, who hangs closely to the others, at how Homare drapes himself over Hisoka’s shoulders and Hisoka doesn’t shrug him off. Tsumugi watches this with a smile hidden behind his hand, and looks over to Nocturnality’s leading pair when Azuma pushes off to join them.</p>
<p>If this was a play—and Tasuku has always thought of his life in terms of plays—then Tasuku would look for answers for Hisoka. That’s what Kota would do. That’s what Keiji would do. That’s what Rapheal would do for someone he cares about.</p>
<p>Tasuku isn’t preparing for a role, and won’t for Mankai until Winter’s next show, but he <em>is</em> hoping to become more like who he wants to be. He’s not quite there yet.</p>
<p>“I’m going back inside,” Tasuku blurts.</p>
<p>The air around them is still and quiet; night setting in around them. Tasuku tries not to let it bother him when Hisoka looks along with the others. Hisoka always used to do this passive look at Tasuku, but he’d look almost smug when Tasuku begrudgingly carried him. It’s like that passive look follows him now, except Tasuku is leaving him instead of coming closer to carry him.</p>
<p>Homare tilts his head. “Oh? Do you have unfinished business, Tasuku? Carry on with it, then. We shall wait for you out here!”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to wait for me if you don’t want to,” Tasuku says, waving the others off. He just has to know. If there’s nothing else he can do, then he can at least do <em>this</em>. He grasps the cold metal to open the door, and finds Tsumugi hanging back, staring at him.</p>
<p>“Are you going to congratulate them again?” Tsumugi says, quietly.</p>
<p>A wave of guilt crashes over Tasuku. Of course Tsumugi would want to know—just like Azuma or Homare might want to know, like Hisoka <em>won’t</em> want to, because he doesn’t know how. Maybe if Tasuku were a better person, he’d invite Tsumugi along, but he can’t bear the idea of asking Chikage questions while suffocating under other’s gazes.</p>
<p>He shakes his head. “No,” Tasuku says honestly, because he’s not going to lie about this. Not to Tsumugi. “But you don’t have to worry. Utsuki is different now, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>Tsumugi’s face softens. “I think Hisoka’s feelings got through to him, don’t you?”</p>
<p>Well. Tasuku doesn’t know about that much, but as one of the people who knows what happened best, sans Izumi—Tasuku has to ask. That’s all he can do, because he’s realized quickly that he won’t be able to be there to comfort Hisoka alone.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Maybe.” The door gives way beneath his fingertips, and Tasuku enters the theater once again.</p>
<p>Under the bright light of the dressing room stands Chikage. He’s not alone; the rest of Spring Troupe is there too, and Sakuya chatters at Chikage with a signature bright smile. Chikage is out of his costume now, his sweater and jacket already back on and a teasing smile in his voice.</p>
<p>At the same time, though, it’s like he’s a solitary shadow even within the crowd. Tasuku bites his tongue.</p>
<p>Tasuku considers, for a moment, how to announce his presence, but Citron does it for him. “Tasuku!” he says. “What are you doing back here?”</p>
<p>The weight of the moment presses down on him. “I came to see if you needed any more help—but, more importantly, can I talk to Utsuki?” Chikage’s eyebrows raise in Tasuku’s direction. “It’s not anything big. Your performance was good, by the way.”</p>
<p>The compliment feels too much like an afterthought, but it <em>is</em> genuine.</p>
<p>Chikage shrugs. Itaru gives Tasuku a look, looking him up and down, eyes more intense than usual. Then, he turns to Chikage. “You should talk to him somewhere else,” he smiles. “I don’t want to hear what Tasuku thinks you did wrong.”</p>
<p>Tsuzuru mutters something like, <em>“It’s not like he’s all criticism, though,”</em> off to the side</p>
<p>Truth is, Tasuku was a bit distracted by Hisoka. He wonders briefly if he comes off too strong normally, or if this is just a convenient excuse—either way, Chikage stands cleanly and follows Tasuku out.</p>
<p>The room they end in is small, but not cramped. It might be a storage area of some sort, Tasuku thinks—Mankai’s stage is old, and there’s probably more spaces they’ve never seen—but Tasuku tries not to pay any mind to the fact that he’s alone with the man who he watched return with his troupemate with new amnesia. Tasuku still doesn’t have <em>answers</em>.</p>
<p>Tasuku clears his throat. “I wouldn’t tear apart your first show, just so you know,” he says. Chikage leans against a wall and crosses his arms. Tasuku sits down on a folding chair. “You did as well as you could’ve done, considering.”</p>
<p>Chikage hums, but otherwise stays silent.</p>
<p>“I wanted to ask about Mikage.” Tasuku knows that’s what Chikage expected; he narrows his eyes at Tasuku, and Tasuku stares steadily back.</p>
<p>“I’m not telling you the details of what happened to him, if that’s what you’re asking” Chikage says.</p>
<p>Tasuku hadn’t expected anything from Chikage. He thinks he wouldn’t have minded if Chikage had told him, though; it’s not like Hisoka can speak of it if he doesn’t know what happened. But Tasuku is also aware of Hisoka’s secrecy, of the fact that he hadn’t said what he remembered even before he left. Only that Chikage loathed him.</p>
<p>“And who is Mikage to you?”</p>
<p>Chikage looks at him neutrally. Tasuku can’t imagine this is easy to answer, after all that’s happened.</p>
<p>“Hisoka is...” Chikage pauses. His eyes fall from Tasuku down to his hands, where he lightly traces the texture of the wall, like that will keep him grounded. “I think it would be easier to tell you what he <em>isn’t</em>. He isn’t my enemy.”</p>
<p>Tasuku nods. “That’s good.”</p>
<p>Chikage huffs out a breath of air. “He’s your family, isn’t he? When Masumi left, all of Mankai was saying that.” He looks at Tasuku sharply. “And I thought he could never be my family.”</p>
<p>Tasuku doesn’t get what Chikage is getting at, but he does remember that day; Tasuku was one of the drivers, gripping the steering wheel and feeling the rumbling beneath his body as a strained tension flooded his car. The fear of losing one of their own kept Tasuku quiet. He’d been afraid for Masumi, too.</p>
<p>Tasuku wouldn’t outwardly call Hisoka his family. Winter Troupe is too different from Mankai as a whole, and Nocturnality is too fresh in his mind, as Hisoka let them know that Winter Troupe were just <em>themselves</em>.</p>
<p>“Is he <em>your</em> family?” Tasuku asks.</p>
<p>Chikage’s smile turns up too much at the edges, like he hasn’t gotten the memo that this conversation isn’t <em>amusing</em>. <em>“Family</em> is too strong of a word, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Tasuku’s gut wrenches. Chikage is still staring at him like it’s funny. “So he isn’t.”</p>
<p>“I never said that.” Chikage shakes his head. “Have you thought about it, though? How easy it is to break apart a family? How just one thing could lead to Mankai crumbling? Hisoka’s memories won’t cause Mankai’s fall, but thinking of him as a member of my <em>family</em> is too far.”</p>
<p>Tasuku can’t understand that. He can’t imagine Winter Troupe as a family in the same way the Spring Troupe does, but he still knows that he’d reach for them every time, just as they’d reach for him. They’re family. They’ve always been family, from the very moment they pulled over on the beach and went out to the shore together.</p>
<p>Hisoka had washed up there, he’d said. Tasuku wonders if it hurt him, if he almost drowned. Tasuku still doesn’t know the reason he was there.</p>
<p>Will Hisoka remember pain rather than family when he recovers his memories?</p>
<p>Tasuku sighs. “Do you think it hurt Mikage to have to remember once, and then do it all over again?” He bites his tongue. He tries to think of what to say to make it better. “But if his memories came back because of you before, then I’m sure he’ll remember you soon.”</p>
<p><em>Even if you’re not family,</em> Tasuku doesn’t say.</p>
<p>When Tasuku looks up, his heart clenches. Evidently, this was wrong, something so off script that Chikage is glaring at him. “Don’t act like the same thing will happen. Don’t pretend you don’t know it’s because of <em>me trying to hurt him</em> that he remembered—you don’t even know what he remembered. You don’t know who he was before.”</p>
<p>“I don’t. But you do.” Tasuku looks away, to his hands on his lap. He doesn’t have anything else to say. Chikage will reject all his questions. “Sorry. I just want him to find a place to belong.”</p>
<p>“...Of course you do.”</p>
<p>Chikage doesn’t speak for a long time. His silence is something Tasuku takes at face value; Chikage must not have more to say either, but Tasuku expects a graceful exit from the man before they part ways. Chikage is like that—not that Tasuku knows him well.</p>
<p>The silence fills the room.</p>
<p>“He said that everyone would accept him,” Chikage says quietly, at last, and then falls silent again. The door swings open, and there’s a rush of air onto Tasuku’s face, into the near-emptiness of the room.</p>
<p>Tasuku glances up from his hands, but Chikage’s already out the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Homare insists on waiting for Tasuku to come back. Homare also insists on sticking close to Hisoka’s side, which Hisoka doesn’t exactly mind, but there’s a lingering feeling that Homare shouldn’t <em>care</em> so much about him.</p>
<p>Hisoka doesn’t call Homare <em>Arisu.</em> Even though he’s remembered it, even though he feels it burning on his tongue. Homare deserves better than Hisoka admitting that he’s beginning to remember things, but he still doesn’t <em>know</em> them. He doesn’t know anything.</p>
<p>The impression Hisoka has of Homare comes to him quickly and easily, without any past memories: he’s <em>loud</em> and <em>strange</em>.</p>
<p>This is how Hisoka sees him, and how he dances around Hisoka, always hovering but never trying to approach too quickly. His grin stretches painfully, sometimes, when Hisoka rejects him. He wonders if the Hisoka of the past rejected him, if he cared for him, if any of this matters at all when Homare just wants him to be himself.</p>
<p>Homare latches onto Hisoka’s shoulders with his fingers loose. He doesn’t follow when Hisoka pulls away, simply giving him a soft smile so unlike his normal—or so Hisoka assumes—grins that it catches in Hisoka’s lungs.</p>
<p>Azuma engages Homare in a conversation, then, taking that intense red gaze away from Hisoka.</p>
<p>As for the others, Hisoka is too caught up in thinking about Chikage to bother sticking around them when Homare’s like this. Tsumugi may or may not understand; he watches him leave Homare’s side without breathing a word about it until Hisoka is out of earshot.</p>
<p>All the while, Hisoka is caught in his own mind, where he thinks of the play, and of Chikage staring at him in the dressing room as he talked to Sakuya, and…</p>
<p><em>My brother</em>.</p>
<p>That’s what Chikage is, isn’t he? The thought pounds at the inside of Hisoka’s skull, because it <em>has</em> to be true. Hisoka doesn’t know Chikage except as his <em>brother</em>. That’s why Hisoka had to be the one to talk to Chikage, why Chikage would save him. It’s an explanation, one he feels instinctively in his gut. It’s all Hisoka can recall. That has to be their relationship.</p>
<p>...Probably.</p>
<p>Without Homare next to him, Hisoka finds himself alone on the street. The others can still see him, but that’s the feeling Hisoka gets; one of emptiness, between streetlights and under the watchful gaze of the Mankai theater.</p>
<p>Only a few people stick around. Some are walking to other buildings, but it still feels like a ghost town this late. Hisoka remembers the feeling of the curtains closing. Finality sinking into Hisoka’s bones.</p>
<p>There’s one man, alone, lingering by Mankai’s building.</p>
<p>Hisoka turns his head. The man standing alone there has dark hair and a shadowy demeanor, but with how he stands next to the streetlight, it makes his earrings shine just noticeably enough that he doesn't get overlooked by Hisoka’s keen eyes.</p>
<p>Hisoka walks silently to stand beside him, to see what he’s looking at.</p>
<p>The poster of The Wonderful Charlatan of Oz is large, larger than the fliers Hisoka saw but never helped pass out. Chikage is smiling on it, but it looks stiff to Hisoka’s eyes, unlike Sakuya’s burst of happiness. It’s well hidden though; Hisoka wonders when he got good at reading Chikage’s expressions.</p>
<p>The other cast members are shown on the back of a flier pinned up nearby. The unknown man is staring at them.</p>
<p>“Are you interested in theater?” Hisoka says, like it’s no big deal—</p>
<p>
  <em>“Are you interested in theater?” Izumi beamed while the men in the room groaned at her insistence, her casual optimism in the face of the fact that Hisoka had been picked up from the street—</em>
</p>
<p>Hisoka wishes he had a marshmallow to eat. His mouth tastes blank and gross.</p>
<p>The man glances at Hisoka with calm green eyes, unsurprised that he’s there. He must be good at detecting people, which puts a knot in Hisoka’s chest. That’s not supposed to happen. He doesn’t know why it’s making him so conflicted.</p>
<p>“No,” the man says flatly. “I have no desire to watch plays. But…” His facial muscles don’t move, not even a downwards turn to his mouth, but he trails off.</p>
<p>“Did you come to that one,” Hisoka asks. “I did... It was good… I guess.” It <em>was</em> pretty good. Hisoka knows that the actors worked hard in practicing, except Chikage. Chikage has always been an exception to Hisoka’s praises. “The lead actor sucked, though…”</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t watch it,” the man says. “I don’t understand why so many people came to this show. Especially if one of the actors was bad at their job.”</p>
<p>Hisoka shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’d never watched a play before this,” though that’s only because of his amnesia, not that this man needs to know, “so I’m not sure what’s <em>good,</em> but I know…” Hisoka pauses.</p>
<p>The man waits silently. His eyes are still on Hisoka, staring as if he can’t look away.</p>
<p>Hisoka’s not sure it matters. He’s not sure he can tell anyone in Mankai about this, but this man isn’t part of Mankai. He’s a stranger with a weird idea of what one should do around a theater, and Hisoka might not know <em>why,</em> but he knows this man will listen. Hopefully. Maybe.</p>
<p>“...The lead actor is my brother,” Hisoka says, and it feels like confessing something large and inescapable. Hisoka can’t leave behind that one fact; he knew Chikage. He knew Chikage better than he knew Winter Troupe, maybe better than he knew anyone else in the world. He wishes he could remember <em>what he did</em> to need to <em>put himself in Chikage’s shoes,</em> of all things. “I think he could become a better actor if he tries.”</p>
<p>The man nods. “I see.”</p>
<p>Hisoka breathes in. The night smells like rainwater and spice. A pang runs through his heart; he wants to understand something more than he does. “Why are you out here if you’re not watching it?”</p>
<p>“I’m watching over someone.” The man’s eyes go back to the poster.</p>
<p>That’s not a good enough answer. “Who.”</p>
<p>The man shakes his head. Hisoka is left drowning in the silence. This is the person Hisoka has decided to share the remnants of his memories with, so there must be some way to connect to him. Hisoka can feel his eyes drooping. He should get back to Homare and his marshmallows.</p>
<p>“What’s your name?” Hisoka settles on, and though there’s something suspicious about the man, Hisoka decides that it’s probably not a problem. He’ll just watch out in case he sees him again.</p>
<p>“My name is Guy.”</p>
<p>“...I’m Hisoka.” Hisoka closes his eyes. “Come to another play, and actually watch it. Maybe you’ll get it then.” In the darkness behind his eyelids, he can’t see the man’s probably unchanging expression.</p>
<p>“I do not think that’ll happen,” Guy says, in the same passive way he’s said everything else.</p>
<p>Hisoka opens his eyes. “...That’s fine,” he says, because he’s not sure what he wants out of Guy, just like he’s not sure what he wants out of theater. Like he’s not sure what he wants from Mankai. So it’s fine.</p>
<p>Spring Troupe should be almost done with their post-show… whatever theater troupes do after shows. It’s not Hisoka’s concern, but he does know that he should get back to the others.</p>
<p>He doesn’t say much else to Guy. He doesn’t seem to be interested in Hisoka, anyway, so Hisoka doesn’t mention him to the others. He wonders why it’s easier to confess his feelings about Chikage—vague though they may be—to someone he’ll never have to mention to Mankai.</p>
<p>He wants to trust Winter Troupe. He wants to collapse into Homare’s arms and listen to Tsumugi ramble about theater, and sleep with the knowledge that he can tell them anything.</p>
<p>He wants to ask about what they know about Chikage.</p>
<p>He doesn’t.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Hisoka drifts in a half-sleep. In his dreams, Chikage is a man named April, and April tells him that he’s a traitor. His eyes are sharp, steely; his expression forms a stern frown. It’s like how Hisoka would imagine family to look at him when he does something wrong.</p>
<p>He reaches for his memories. His fingers slip through them, sand through his fingers, water through his hair. The waves were so gentle, bringing him to shore.</p>
<p>A door slams, waking Hisoka up with a jolt.</p>
<p>“Chikage!” someone yells, making Hisoka sit up. It’s muffled from outside, but Hisoka still feels like his senses have been set on fire, like this is the only thing he can pay attention to.</p>
<p>Is this a remnant of his past, or…?</p>
<p>No time to think of those things, Hisoka reminds himself, swinging himself out of bed with silent grace. He has to figure out what’s happening with Chikage. He <em>promised himself</em> that he’d figure out how to make things better, even if only a little bit. Ideally, Hisoka would keep sleeping, but as he cracks open the door—</p>
<p>Sakuya stands alone in the courtyard. It’s so dark that he’s basically equivalent to a shadow, arms wrapped around himself. <em>Chikage must’ve been there. What did he do to Sakuya?</em></p>
<p>No. Not <em>what did he do</em>. Hisoka has always known, hasn’t he?</p>
<p>No matter how distant Chikage is, no matter if the others distrust him, no matter if Hisoka <em>doesn’t know him, just like he doesn’t know anyone,</em> no matter what Hisoka had to do <em>before</em>—</p>
<p>Chikage is someone Hisoka has to try to understand, so Hisoka can’t blame him too fast.</p>
<p>“Sakuya…?” Hisoka says when he gets close enough for them to hear each other, and Sakuya jumps. They meet eyes, and Sakuya immediately loosens.</p>
<p>“Hisoka! Chikage’s trying to run, I told him I was worried but he just—”</p>
<p>“I’ll go after him.” Hisoka thinks he knows where Chikage would go, running away from all this. He’d go back to the place Hisoka first woke up in, when he knew nothing except that Chikage referred to Mankai as <em>home.</em> He just has to find where that is. He just has to follow Chikage. “Stay here, Sakuya. It’ll be okay.”</p>
<p>“But what about <em>us,</em>” Sakuya says, and his voice cracks. Hisoka pauses. Sakuya looks at him with wide eyes, pink even in the night surrounding them. “Spring Troupe keeps trying to get him back, and—”</p>
<p>“He’s running away because of me,” Hisoka interrupts. “...You shouldn’t have to bring him back.”</p>
<p>Sakuya shuts his eyes, his whole body frozen, as if he can’t bear to take this; the guilt is too large and too crushing. If Sakuya can’t let himself stay still, if Sakuya has been trying to help Chikage, then Hisoka can’t leave him alone.</p>
<p>He hasn’t spent a lot of time with Sakuya, but he knows that he’s <em>good</em>. Good in a way Hisoka has never been.</p>
<p>Sakuya doesn’t deserve this.</p>
<p>Hisoka puts his hands on Sakuya’s shoulders, because that’s all he can do. “This isn’t your fault. We’ll come back.”</p>
<p>Sakuya’s jaw clenches and he nods, eyes downcast. Hisoka feels it knot in his chest, because Sakuya isn’t supposed to be <em>sad</em> like this—<em>“We still haven’t done our daily coin flip, Chikage!” he beamed, chasing after Chikage. Chikage turned back to him, expression blank</em>—and Hisoka doesn’t know how to fix it.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Sakuya says, expression twisting up and fists clenching. “Okay, I can wait. Because we’re family, right? Even if… Even if Chikage doesn’t believe it.” His breathing is shaky.</p>
<p>Hisoka nods. That’s all he can do in the darkness of the night, the moonlight bright and oppressive; it’s reminding Hisoka of light green hair and sleepless nights he can’t quite grasp. Sakuya is still watching him as Hisoka turns to where Chikage disappeared. They don’t say anything more.</p>
<p>Hisoka runs after his brother.</p>
<p> </p>
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